Macho Man
by flyingpiggies
Summary: When the manliness of Beast BOY is questioned, the guys have a contest to decide who wins the title "Macho Man"...a joy ride on the T-car, dish duty exemption, and a whole lot of Playboys. The judges? Starfire and Raven (whose mood swings plague them all)


A/N 1: Die mosquitoes, Die.

Dedicated to Kirkor from a Sanctified Shrimp Goddess, toaster, waffle iron, and various electronic devices & Co. in a desperate attempt to wring some updates out of ChocolateCurlz. And for They Were Us, what's this waterbed that I hear of?

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...Another day in the City of Jumping Football Fugitives (Jump City, for short). Here footballs pursue their divine rights of freedom, liberty and truth in the famous game of "Runaway". And where there are renegades of sport equipment, there are bounty hunters. Hence footballs became fierce warriors, attacking innocent bystanders.

Oddly, green angers them terribly. Perhaps because of all those afternoons being tossed and kicked all over the park. Whatever the reason, they hate and resent the odious color. So it is no surprise Beast Boy and his ghastly skin suffer quite a bit. Today is no different...

CRASH!!!

Football escapee #17 hurdles across the hall, missing Cy, who ducked, and hitting Beast Boy, who didn't. Poor shrimp boy, his green hinny just got kicked for the seventeenth time today. Fortunately, our hero has insurance from the soliciting neighborhood duck.

AFLACK.

"Damn, Robin. I think it killed him. Could've at least waited till B.B finished changing the light bulb."

"He was supposed to change it a week ago." Groaning, Tim grabbed the evil runaway prop and smacked it with a baseball bat. "Look what you did! I told you not to roll this way. Now we're gonna have to cremate Beast Boy and change the bulb ourselves! Bad football. Very bad! Time out for you! You're grounded! No stereo, no phone, no computer, and no T.V!"

"Um...Robin? Why are you chastising a football?" Cyborg asked, puzzled. "Hey, man! I always thought we'd be buried, not burned!"

"Yeah, but Flyingpiggies used up our budget on chocolate, so it's the furnace for us. Besides, Gar's not really dead. Two Playboys says Gar's out cold."

"You think?" Cyborg scratched his head, "I dunno man-"

"C'mon on ladies, don't be shy, plenty of Beast to go around..." Gar made a kissing noise.

"Plenty of slobber too," Cy muttered grimly as he handed Robin his magazines. "...Yep...he lives."

"Hm... I love you too, tofu!" B.B's arms curled around himself, lips frozen in a smooch, unaware of the bets placed on his well being. Oh well, ignorance is bliss I suppose.

Beast Boy frowned. "Aw, man. She always picks on me!"

"Flyingpiggies picks on you?" Cyborg stared in disbelief.

"Nah, Raven does. My dream was just getting good when suddenly masseuse Raven comes and pepper-sprays me and feeds me to a group of old Bulgarians," Beast Boy sighed. "Stupid Flyingpiggies and her stupid alter egos! Stupid lost waffle iron, stupid blue fungus that ate my soy cubes, stupid light bulb that I still have to change, stupid manic footballs-"

Wait for it...He' s going to regret saying that...3...2...1...

WHACK!

The football knocked B.B. unconscious.

Moments later...Gar rose unsteadily, "Don't be hating, you piece of rubber!"

WHACK!

"You think that football messed his head up?" Robin looked concerned, wondering where the asylum's phone number was when he needed it. "I hope he's okay..."

"Was he ever okay?" Cyborg shook his head, "You sure his head wasn't already like that?"

"Well," Tim reflected at the many soy sauce drinking fests Beast Boy held and the time he insisted bringing them to some tribal restaurant, resulting in mass chaos and diarrhea. "Yeah, you're right."

Cyborg looked bored. "Wanna read Playboys in the training room?"

"Sure."

Seconds later... "Whoa, are you two bad boys hoarding a stash of dirty magazines? I wanna see!"

"You gotta be a Macho Man to handle a good magazine like that."

Beast Boy frowned when Cy wasn't convinced, "I'm Macho."

"Yea, but you ain't a man!" His robot friend wagged his finger, "Only Robin and I are fully certified readers. Macho and Man."

"But you're half robot!"

"I'm more man then you are." Cyborg looked annoyed.

"But what does Robin need with a bunch of those? I always thought Batman and Robin were a couple-," He laughed nervously at Robin' s my-bird-a-rang-through-your-head-glare, "-of good friends. Heh. Besides, I'm man enough."

Apparently, Cy didn't think so. He made of list of Gar's non-manly attributes, ticking off his fingers.

"Ok, green dude. First of all you're Beast Boy. Second of all, you faint when your skin gets pruny, third of all, you scream when you see cute little Easter bunnies and fourthly, you secretly wear green eye shadow! And you got pummeled to the ground by a couple of mindless footballs."

Surprisingly, no footballs come out to attack him. Strange.

"Hey, that was once and it could have been a rabid bunny like the one in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Plus the wrinkly things you get after showering too long are creepy!" The accused stuck out his tongue. "They'll suck your eyes out if you're not careful."

"Just like the mutated radioactive cyberclones from Nova Scotia." Robin wasn't convinced, neither was Cyborg. "Killer aliens, my T-car!"

"Oh yeah? Well, you're just jealous of my manly disposition!" Gar wasn't happy, not only was he denied the sanctified rights to dirty magazines, but his manliness was being questioned! He would not stand for this madness!

"Okay fine, dude. Just don't hurt your self on those big words. Let's just settle this with a little contest and see who's the real man." Cyborg glanced down the hall, making sure the girls were out of earshot. "This is how it'll work: Whoever gets both Starfire and Raven to say 'You're so manly!' first, wins and is declared El Senor Macho."

"And gets all the Playboys," added B.B.

"And no dish duty-"

Cyborg, who had dish duty for the past three weeks, wasn't too sure. "I dunno, sounds like you're trying to get out of good, hard work."

"And has to wear a green Teletubie suit while running thirty times around the football closet-"

"-Plus full custody of T-car for one day."

"No way! A lot of damage could be done in a day! You two twits could blow her up or scratch her, or crash her or worse...FUZZY DICE!" Cy protested, but caved under the kindergarten taunt, "What are you, a chicken?" Certainly it didn't help when B.B somehow morphed into a robotic chicken, red glowy eye and all. He never stood a chance...

Huffing, Cy said, "I'm a man! And when this contest is over, I'll make lunchmeat out of y'all!"

"Yeah, well I'll slice and dice and make you into my soy cubes slaves! My blue furry tofu will have vengeance!" Kindly ignore the cricket chirps please.

"The partner of Batman will prevail!" Again, the crickets and not _that_ kind of partner.

"I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll smoke your little piggy tails!"

"The fishies of Finding Nemo will have their revenge! Set the animals free! Vegetarianism for all!"

"The Joker won't have anything on me when I win!"

"Why you little conniving piece of Bacon! You can't get help from a criminal!"

"It's an expression you idiot! That's what eating meat gets you! An empty head! All muscle and no brains!"

"And I suppose your big 'ol head is filled with tapioca pudding?"

"Fool!"

"Loser!"

"Dumb ass!"

"So? You're ugly!"

"Yo mamma's ugly!"

"Yo mamma's, mamma's, mamma's. Fo shiz!"

Boys, Boys, BOYS! SHUT UP, NEVER SAY FO SHIZ AGAIN, AND LET THE SHRIMP GODDESS NARRATE!

"Ok."

"Fine."

"Geez, spotlight hog."

I SAID SHUT UP! (Lightning strikes Beast Boy unconscious as the footballs attack!)

Ah, yes. The contest. So it begins...

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